


Agent Washington, Chick Magnet

by AriRashkae



Series: RvB Fluff Week [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Chickens, Gen, RvB Fluff Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11318949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriRashkae/pseuds/AriRashkae
Summary: Fluff Week: Wash accidentally adopts a flock of chickens.I cackled like a hen for a good five minutes when I saw this XD





	Agent Washington, Chick Magnet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hinn_Raven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hinn_Raven/gifts).



“Wash! Dude! Where the hell have you been?” Tucker snagged Wash’s elbow as they passed in the hallway. “You were due in hours ago!”

Wash extricated his arm from Tucker’s grip. “First of all, we were only an hour late getting in. Second, you weren’t told? I know I heard Caboose report in.” He continued down the hall towards Dr. Grey’s office.

Tucker snorted and fell into step beside him. And wasn’t _that_ strange as all fucking hell. Wash? _Voluntarily_ going to the infirmary? When there was currently no one there to visit? “Yeah, but he gave Simmons some bullshit story about how you were ‘picking up chicks'–”

“We were.”

“–and Caboose isn’t exactly … wait, what?” It was amazing how Wash could make Tucker stumble over nothing with just two words.

“That’s what we were doing,” Wash said calmly.

Tucker stopped dead. “OK, now I know you’re fucking with me. What were you _really_ doing that kept you out so long?” And when the hell did Agent Shriekington get such a poker-voice?

Someday, Tucker was going to learn _exactly_ how Wash managed to convey so much with such a small head tilt. “Are you giving me a curfew, _Captain_ Tucker?” he asked mildly.

“Fuck you, dude. You know damn well we haven’t secured everything yet, and all you had for backup was _Caboose_.” Which wasn’t as bad as he made it sound, but like hell was Tucker going to admit that.

“And Freckles.”

“Yeah, because the temperamental AI with fire control is so reassuring.” Tucker snorted and folded his arms.

Wash just laughed, the fucker. “Well, the complex looks clear enough to recommend a more in depth sweep. I doubt there’s any useful equipment left, but hopefully Jensen and her crew can cobble together a few things. Otherwise we’re going to lose a lot of manpower just to trying to feed everyone.”

Tucker grimaced. “Are supplies that bad?” He knew they needed to get the farms up and running as soon as possible; it was going to take _time_ for everything to grow enough to be edible. Time they might not have.

“No, what we secured from the mercenaries’ bases will keep us going for a while longer.” Wash rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. “But it means we still have to strictly ration everything.”

“And the war’s over, so the rationing is supposed to be too.” There was already grumbling about short rations and fungus meals. The longer it had to go on, now that they’d kicked Charon’s forces right in the ass, the worse it was going to get.

“Exactly.” Wash didn’t sound any more thrilled than Tucker felt.

“Fuck.” Maybe they could get people to start growing stuff in pots. You could do that with vegetables, right?

“Yep. The sooner we can get the farms up and running, the happier everyone will be.”

“Fuck, why don’t we just hit up that Bountiful Harvest Temple that Santa mentioned? This is probably _exactly_ what it was for.”

Wash shook his head. “Kimball & Dr. Grey want to do some more research first.”

“What kind of research could they possible need? I go in, do my thing with my sword – bow-chicka-bow-wow – bam! Feast time.”

“Assuming that what it grows is edible to humans,” Wash pointed out. “And it doesn’t flatten somewhere people are living. It _was_ built millennia ago for an entirely different species.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good point.” Damn, _he_ should have thought of that. He should probably wander over to the nearest Temple and ask.

Wash clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Tucker. I’m sure someone will let you use your sword eventually.”

“Oh go fuck yourself, Wash. Now seriously, what the hell were you doing that took so long?” He shrugged off Wash’s hand and tried to give him his best “Captain” glare.

Sadly, it didn’t work very well when the glar _ee_ was a) taller, b) a Freelancer, and c) has had to drag the glar _er_ out of bed, naked, by his ankle. More than once.

Wash gave him an exaggerated, overly-patient sigh. “I told you. Picking. Up. Chicks.”

“And I’m telling you that’s _bullshit_. Nobody from here was out that way, and there’s nobody _left_ who isn’t in the Army.” They both fell silent for a moment at the harsh reminder of just how much Chorus had been through.

Wash shook himself slightly. “Dr. Grey just finished giving them a check-up. Would you like to meet them?” He sounded like he was trying not to laugh, now, the fucker. Tucker _knew_ he couldn’t keep the act up for that long. “There’s probably more than enough for you to have a few of your own.”

Tucker hesitated. Getting Grif & Simmons in on relaying the joke was one thing, but _Dr. Grey_? No way.

Then again, the woman sang opera while cutting people open. There was no telling what she’d find funny.

“Sure. Let’s go meet these ‘chicks’ of yours.” This oughta be good. Tucker couldn’t _wait_ to see what was actually going on.

 

“Oh, Agent Washington! Captain Tucker! I am pleased to report that everyone is in tip-top condition! Aside from being more than a little hungry, that is.”

Tucker frowned, even as Wash laughed behind him. “Everyone _who_?”

“Agent Washington’s new friends! They’re currently dozing all warm and comfy, but I think they missed you, Wash.” She pointed to the box currently sitting under her desk lamp, taking up half the surface.

Tucker peered into the box. Multiple pairs of black, beady eyes opened and stared up at him. “… I fucking hate you, dude. You fucking suck. Like, seriously. You. Are. A. Fucking. Asshole.”

“I told you I was picking up chicks.” Wash stripped off his gloves and arm guards, and carefully picked up the fucking _flock of baby chickens_ in the box. “See?”

_"How?"_

Surprisingly, Wash actually gave him a straight answer. “Caboose found them in a collapsed shed. We looked, but couldn’t find the mother. So we found a box and brought them back here.” He shifted his arm a little, creating a bit of a pocket for the chicks – actual fucking _chicks_ – to tumble over each other burrowing into. They peeped contentedly as they snuggled into the space.

Tucker opened his mouth to swear at Wash some more, just on principle, when the most brilliant, _perfect_ thought he’d _ever_ had struck him. “You know what this means, right?”

Wash eyed him suspiciously, somehow managing to look threatening with an armful of softly cheeping fluffballs. “What _what_ means?”

“You’re a _total_ chick magnet.” Tucker high-tailed it out of the infirmary before Wash could get a hand free and grab him, Dr. Grey’s laughter following him into the hall. He’d pay for it at training tomorrow, but it was _totally_ worth it.

He wondered if he could spread it around the base before dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://arirashkae.tumblr.com/post/162221122051/fluff-week-wash-accidentally-adopts-a-flock-of)


End file.
